Green Woods

In the green woods of spring, in the ghost woods
of this spring, as a raptor from a cloud,
tremendous sorrow descended on me,
past indistinguishable from presence, 

mourning inextinguishable and charged 
with a reverential beauty revealed 
in absence, aftermath  of sweet delights,
in the talons of sorrow I find grace

the green woods of spring, the ghost woods of spring,
on fierce thorned canes just now wild  white roses
start the blooms  that will soon perfume the woods,
last a fortnight, leave a trace as they fade

in green woods of spring, in ghost woods of spring
I walk the thickets of my tangled time